


Something from Nothing

by alyssakay347



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Psychological Trauma, Rehabilitation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-12
Updated: 2015-05-12
Packaged: 2018-03-30 06:22:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3926164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alyssakay347/pseuds/alyssakay347
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Levi becomes disconnected from the world, and Erwin takes it upon himself to bring him back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something from Nothing

Erwin thought witnessing death was hard. He thought losing an arm was hard. He thought seeing pain, heartbreak, loss…

Nothing. Seeing nothing left was hardest. 

Levi’s eyes held exactly that.

Erwin released him from the shackles and lifted him up. Levi’s body was so darkly bruised, it looked as if the color of his hair had bled onto the rest of him. He was frighteningly light, frighteningly limp, devoid of life except for the faintest pulse. His pulse and his empty eyes, still open and blinking slow as his breath.

  


A full recovery, the doctors said. Erwin knew better. 

Levi didn’t speak, didn’t make eye-contact. He was awake but absent. Just silence and stillness and staring at something no one else could see. While Levi’s mind was still there, his self was not. His flame had been snuffed out, and all that was left was the distorted wax candle, covered in streaks and drips. Like dried blood. Like tears.

Even cleaned of dirt and grime and infections, Levi’s skin was tarnished with yellow and brown marks that wouldn’t disappear for weeks. Even washed and combed, Levi’s hair did not shine even in the brightest of light. Even as his body recovered, Levi did not return. 

Doctors, scouts, and leaders of varying ranks and regions visited, but they all failed to get through to Humanity’s Strongest. As days passed with no improvement, few showed confidence that the title would remain. Only disappointment at a legend lost. 

Erwin, however, believed in the words more than ever. Perhaps it was guilt that drove Erwin to search relentlessly for a cure and bring Levi back. Perhaps it was that Erwin owed him so much. Perhaps it was something else Erwin simply couldn’t put into words. 

Levi soon began to function like most recovering patients: delayed in movement, cooperative with guidance, capable of basic functioning. But Levi still did not return. Not a word. Not a hint. He betrayed no recognition or confusion, no acceptance or aversion.

Erwin found a promising book and tested its techniques, but it had no effect. At two weeks, he was told to give it some time. 

Erwin found a promising healer and payed her with his own savings, but she couldn’t help. At five weeks, he was told to give it a rest.

But Erwin continued to visit the hospital everyday, and everyday he was told Levi was getting stronger. Erwin understood, however, that the body and mind were not one in the same. The nurses sympathized. The doctors apologized.

_Nothing, Commander. There is nothing to be done._

Eventually Levi had to be released. There was no place for him to go, but Erwin had one to offer. Most might consider it his “home.” Erwin did not.

Irrational as it was, Erwin was convinced Levi would want to be useful while he continued to recover. He decided to encourage something simple, like washing uniforms. Levi might even find the task soothing—or so Erwin told himself. He obtained the supplies and dirty clothes necessary. When he realized Levi might not remember what to do, he demonstrated the process.

But Levi showed no signs of hearing or seeing anything Erwin did. 

Erwin didn’t give up so easily. From then on, he showed Levi what to do every night without fail. Erwin knew Levi needed this if he was ever going to return to the world; Levi needed a place to start. So Erwin tried everything: hands-off, hands-on, kindness, sternness, demanding, begging—begging Levi to do the work, to do something. Anything besides nothing.

It took over three weeks for Levi to pick up a rag on his own, another four for him to actually use it. Erwin looked back on those months as one of his most trying times, and he had plenty to choose from.

Then, on a moonless night, Levi disappeared. Erwin searched on horseback until dawn, chased all the while by a new kind of panic more crippling than any lost limb. Eventually two guards dragged Levi to him saying he had been standing on the Wall. Just standing there.

News of the incident got out soon enough, littered with fabrications and slander about Levi’s condition. Erwin had nothing good to say to anyone who dared bring it up.

At four months, he was told to give it up. There were places for people like Levi, where they couldn’t get in trouble or throw themselves off Walls. 

_He wasn’t going to throw himself off the Wall,_ Erwin insisted. He didn’t allow himself to wonder. When Erwin declined the offer to have Levi taken off his hands, no one bothered pressing the issue. 

_This should not interfere with what is expected of you,_ warned his superiors.

 _Of course,_ Erwin said. _Of course,_ he reassured to all those keen for certainty in their troubled times.

  


A sickness struck everywhere within the Walls, leading to low manpower when Titans attacked again. Erwin was sent to lead the evacuation while other legion officers dealt with leading combat. When the mess was almost over, two weeping women dragged Levi to him saying he had saved their lives. Just with one broken blade. 

Erwin forgot about the people, the Titans, and the Walls in an instant. He looked into Levi’s eyes. 

Levi had not returned.

Erwin discovered that—despite Levi’s apparent inability to tighten his own straps—Levi could still fight. More importantly, he could still manage 3DMG. Most importantly, he could still fly. No one could explain it, but Erwin had no interest in explanations. He did, however, know an opportunity when he saw one. 

Each morning before his meetings, Erwin helped Levi don a uniform and escorted him somewhere to practice. Some part of Levi turned on, and he flew all day like there was nothing else in the world to do. 

Each evening, Levi cleaned uniforms while Erwin reviewed paperwork nearby. They worked late into the night until Levi finished the last sash and turned off again, like an object out of place, waiting to be put away. 

On one of his rare days off, Erwin watched Levi sail around the empty training yard. Without thinking, he yelled out a correction on a wide swing. 

Levi’s head snapped in his direction. 

Neither a word nor eye-contact. But a hint.

  


Erwin refused to listen to those who said Levi had lost something as irreplaceable as Erwin’s arm. Erwin was even grateful for his unsuitability in the field for once; he could think of no better use of his time than helping Levi become whole again. At ten months, Erwin wanted to clear Levi for duty again since he was more adept with the gear than ever. But his superiors stepped in and declared that only people could fight the Titans, not pets. 

Erwin managed not to throttle them, and he managed not to ask: Who was not a pet to the Titans? Which one of them was truly a person in the eyes of those in the innermost Walls of their city? 

Disapproval didn’t matter anyway. Times were hard, and pleasing the higher-ups was little more than a formality. Levi unofficially rejoined the force with the order to remain beside Commander Smith at all times unless told otherwise. Erwin would need him there; recruiting was getting more difficult, and he would most likely need to fight on the field again if he didn’t want to leave his work to some incompetent. 

Erwin told himself he didn’t want to deprive Levi of a purpose, but really he couldn’t stand the thought of Levi fighting under anyone else. 

As usual, Levi had nothing to say. He only obeyed—and to the other superiors’ chagrin, he obeyed only Erwin. 

  


Recruits learned to accept the often fruitless nature of their work. Citizens learned to go without much more than bread and butter. Erwin learned to use the gear again, in a way like no other before him. Everything about flying was harder with his disadvantage, but some things were not as hard as others with a right hand man.

New recruits who didn’t know Levi asked why he didn’t talk and why he didn’t act like a normal person. Erwin replied that Levi made many sacrifices for the cause and survived things that would have killed anyone else. That he too human not to be damaged but too strong to be defeated.

The ignorants gave Levi a new nickname: Smith’s Phantom Soldier. Erwin hated it. 

But he hated even more that the name wasn’t entirely unwarranted. Levi floated through the routine Erwin set up for him without deviation. He didn’t cook, read, write, relax; he just flew and washed and waited for orders. 

He didn’t appear to listen to conversation of any kind, either, let alone participate. Nonetheless, Erwin was always speaking to Levi, and not just in commands and orders. More often than not, he talked about mundane things and mundane people. He cultivated a self-indulgent belief that while everyone else could only talk at Levi, he could talk to him. But whether or not he could, Erwin’s longing for him to talk back never abated.

In time, Levi began dressing without help and going to bed on his own. As Erwin witnessed each step of what he hoped was progress, he realized Levi wasn’t learning or remembering, but choosing. Choosing action over inaction. Something over nothing. 

Joy in the little things Levi did took on a new importance in Erwin’s joyless life. Watching Levi open a door, pour water, strike a match. They were all images that Erwin could replay in his head during the most horrifying of times. 

  


There were more Titans and more grueling fights for the Survey Corps. Levi stayed alive silently while others died screaming. 

Erwin gained notice for miraculously toughing out battle after battle with his steadfast will and levelheadedness—and more to the public’s intrigue, his lack of two hands. He officially became the new face of Humanity’s Strongest. No one listened to his denials, but Erwin continued to believe that the honor belonged, and always would belong, to Levi. 

Erwin was certain he would be nothing but a phantom soldier without him.

Posters and signs and flyers were funded with increasingly frantic vigor by those with increasingly valueless money. Erwin decided that as long as they depicted him with the one who really mattered, he wouldn’t mind the gratuitous title. 

A new nickname for Levi caught on to replace the last: Smith’s Right Arm. Erwin hated it significantly less. 

  


Working extremely late one evening, Erwin began sweating at his desk, suddenly overcome by the worry that Levi had disappeared again or worse. When he found Levi sleeping soundly, Erwin went back to his room more frustrated than anything else. He needed more rest, he supposed. But instead of sleeping, he tossed and turned in bed trying to come up with solutions to Levi’s condition, the city’s condition, the human condition. 

He confessed to the dark that there was nothing he wouldn’t give if Levi would only _ask_. 

He confessed he couldn’t remember being so attached to a person before. Erwin thought of Levi’s new nickname and fell asleep smirking. 

  


Too many titans at once. A storm with black clouds and white lighting and merciless rain. A simple mistake left Erwin bleeding out of an injury worse than any since his arm. 

He sat up against a crumbling storefront to shield himself from the downpour. Massive beasts died all around him, louder than the thunder. Erwin reminded himself that the new graduates were talented, and there were several more veterans around who were trustworthy. Surely these developments would lead the Survey Corps to success without him. 

But old habits die hard, and Erwin fought to stave off unconsciousness anyway. He heard something to his right. 

Levi sat down close to him, gazing somewhere distant. But for once his eyes held something—something very much like fear. Then Levi turned to him and clung to Erwin’s bloody shirt. 

“Did you kill them all, Captain?” Erwin asked, hesitantly touching Levi’s shoulder. His throat burned too much to say more, and he drew in a ragged breath.

The sound drew Levi’s head lower, pressed to Erwin’s chest, and they both held on tighter. Erwin had forgotten how cathartic human touch could be.

“I will,” Levi whispered.

Erwin felt his wrung out heart swell again—then pain returned in full force. “I’m counting on you,” he forced out, closing his eyes.

An eternity passed before Levi spoke again. His voice was incredibly weak and should have been impossible to hear over the storm, yet Erwin heard. 

“Don’t go.”

Erwin heard loud and clear. Tears escaped down his face. “Only if you come back, Levi.” 

Levi nodded slowly against his chest. 

With great effort, they made their way to the closest base. And later, they would return home. In one piece.

  


Anyone who knew the Captain and Commander knew the trust between them was unparalleled. Anyone who knew Levi and Erwin knew it was love that made it that way. 

Erwin’s eyes held exactly that. 

**Author's Note:**

> I thrive off of feedback! I want to hear your yo'pinion, whatever it may be.


End file.
